


A Token of Gratitude

by misbegotten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel offers Sam a good night's sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Token of Gratitude

Sam sleeps in the Impala a lot. It's the kind of jerky, uneven napping that leaves him with a permanent headache, but it's no worse than the headaches he gets after a nighttime visit from Lucifer. Gabriel knows. Even if he couldn't read Sam's mind, it radiates off of Sam in the pained set of his shoulders and the slump in his spine. It's there in the nervous jitter of his fingers when he is awake, and the gasping, shuddering breaths when he wakes in the night.

Gabriel considers, briefly, just finger-tapping Sam into unconsciousness. Sure, he could even stick around and ward off Lucifer's visits, but that would be taking a side that Gabriel isn't sure he's ready to declare. Even though he likes humans. Even though he likes Sam, in particular.

There are other ways to guarantee a good night's sleep, though.

Gabriel waits until Dean is off with Castiel to appear in the Winchester's motel room. Sam's trying not to nod off over his laptop. "Heya, Sammy."

Sam gets this wary look on his face, obviously mentally scanning the room for potential weapons. It would be endearing if it weren't so predictable. And useless. "Gabriel."

Gabriel lounges on the shitty bed. "Relax, kid. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Sam grins lopsidedly. "Isn't that sort of your modus operandi?" He's relaxed slightly; apparently the word of an archangel is worth something to him. Interesting, Gabriel notes.

Gabriel shrugs. "As long as you and your brother keep saying no, I don't have a vested interest in this fight." He might be lying; he's not sure anymore. "Are you going to keep saying no?"

Sam exhales noisily. Gabriel gets a glimpse of his frustration; it rolls off of him in waves. Dean's wariness that Sam might succumb, Castiel as comforting as a piece of sandpaper, Sam scared of his own control slipping -- it's eating him up. "Still saying no," Sam says with more confidence than he feels, Gabriel knows.

"Buck up, kiddo. You just need some rest."

Sam shakes his head. "Tell me about it."

Gabriel pats the bed. "Let Uncle Gabriel fix you up."

"You are _so_ not my uncle," Sam snorts.

Gabriel smirks. "True. But I can give you a good night's sleep, if you'll let me."

Sam rolls his eyes. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Gabriel raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm offering a one hundred percent catch-free token of... well, let's call it gratitude for not leaving me in that circle of fire."

"If you wanted to help us, you'd take a stand against Lucifer." Again, the kid is so earnest it's adorable.

Gabriel shrugs and says flatly, "This is all you're getting, Sam. Take it or leave it."

Sam obviously considers saying no, but then Gabriel snaps his fingers and the cardboard mattress provided by the motel management transforms into a plush king size, with silk sheets and a down comforter.

Sam groans, a sound so indecent that Gabriel feels it spark down his spine and into his groin. He pats the bed encouragingly and Sam walks over, hypnotized. Gabriel crosses his legs on the bed and pulls Sam down with one hand. "Lay down," he orders. "Put your head in my lap."

Sam arranges his enormous body on the mattress, which gives pleasantly beneath them, but hesitates before laying back. "What are you going to do?"

"Angelic relaxation technique," Gabriel retorts. "It involves closing your eyes and shutting your mouth."

Sam looks like he wants to say more, but the bed is inviting and the promise of angelic intervention is tempting, so he shuts up and lays his head in Gabriel's lap.

"Close your eyes," Gabriel repeats. When Sam does, Gabriel puts his forefingers at Sam's temples and mutters an incantation.

Sam sleeps.

*

"Where are we?" The motel room has vanished, but the sumptuous bed remains. Sam's eyes are open, but his head is still cradled in Gabriel's lap.

"Your head," Gabriel answers. "Apparently you really liked the bed, because you brought it with you." He's rubbing Sam's temples gently, absently. "Oddly enough, you brought me too."

Sam closes his eyes as Gabriel's hand wanders, moving to curl through Sam's hair. "So you're a figment of my imagination?"

Gabriel yanks lightly on Sam's hair, just because he can. "Hardly."

Sam ignores the teasing and yawns lazily. "I feel better," he says. "Better than I have in weeks, actually."

Gabriel nudges Sam to move over so he can stretch out his legs. Sam rolls, and ends up next to Gabriel, head propped on his hand. "So how long do we get to stay here?"

"We?" Gabriel smirks. "I can leave now, if you want to be alone."

Sam puts a restraining hand on Gabriel's arm. "No, wait. Stay." He looks at Gabriel curiously. "Why are you here, Gabriel? Why are you doing this for me? No bullshit."

Gabriel sighs. It's harder to lie in dream space; he's closer to his true form rather than the Trickster here. "I like you, Sam. Always have."

Sam snorts -- again, such an unattractive sound. "Funny way of showing it."

Gabriel shrugs. "Believe it or not, your choice." He touches Sam's hand on his arm, and to his surprise a little of his grace flows through.

Sam flushes, his body awakening to the energy. "Like like, or like?" he asks, his voice husky.

Dream space, Gabriel thinks with exasperation. Sam shouldn't be able to read him so easily.

Sam answers the question himself by screwing his fingers into Gabriel's shirt and pulling Gabriel's head down for a kiss. It's sloppy and heated, a battle of tongues and teeth, and when Sam pulls back his chest is heaving. Gabriel doesn't need to breathe, but that spark down his spine has turned into a full-fledged fire.

Before Gabriel can begin his denials, Sam rolls atop Gabriel and cradles Gabriel's head in his hands. The kiss is slower this time, sweeter but no less deep. Sam nips on Gabriel's lips, sucking and biting, and then moves down to nuzzle the firm edge of Gabriel's jaw. He licks a long stripe down Gabriel's neck, uses his teeth to mark, and draws out a ragged sigh from Gabriel.

"Since this is my dream," Sam asks curiously, "Can I just snap away our clothes?"

Gabriel takes an unsteady breath. "Sure thing."

Sam grins, and with a snap their clothes are gone.

"And can I make you fuck me?"

The question goes straight to Gabriel's cock, which answers in the positive. Gabriel manages to keep his voice steady when he answers, truthfully, "You can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

Sam kisses him again. "Do you want to?"

Gabriel returns the kiss, hard. "Yes," he hisses.

With Sam's permission now explicit, Gabriel can't stop touching him. His hands roam Sam's chest, tweaking his nipples, following the ridged curve of his stomach. At Sam's groin, he thumbs the slit of Sam's cock and Sam bucks up from the bed, pushing his erection into Gabriel's grasp, and Gabriel obligingly pumps. He kisses the path his fingers have already followed: the pearled nipples, the rippling muscles at Sam's ribs, the edge of his hip, the tip of his cock.

Sam gasps as Gabriel swallows him down, his fingers at the base of Sam's erection to keep him from coming as he works Sam's cock with his mouth and tongue. Sam fists the comforter beneath them, digs in his heels and pants short, needy sounds that lance through Gabriel, who gives in and removes his fingers from Sam's cock. Soon Sam is coming down his throat, pulsing and shaking his release with a drawn-out groan.

While Sam is still shuddering, Gabriel conjures a bottle of lube and coats his cock. He puts a slippery finger to Sam's ass, teasing the soft flesh at his entrance, until Sam locks his hand on Gabriel's wrist and _pushes_ until Gabriel is knuckle deep inside him. Gabriel grins and fucks him with one finger, then two, pushing the willing muscles around his fingers and giving Sam a taste of what's to come. Sam lets out a soft whine and says quietly, "Gabriel," and the sound of his name on Sam's lips is nearly enough to bring Gabriel over the edge. He pushes Sam's hip, encouraging him up and over.

Sam has barely situated himself on his knees before Gabriel has lined up his cock and then he's pushing and is sheathed in warm heat so sweet it nearly brings tears to his eyes. He waits for a moment, until a shaky nod from Sam reassures him, and then strokes in, deep and strong. He finds that perfect angle until he's pushing Sam's prostate, and he hears himself chanting Sam's name as he moves. It's the only sound, the only thing that he can hear, until Sam reaches back to cover Gabriel's hand on his hip and then he's howling out his completion.

They collapse in a heap of tangled limbs and sticky come, and for once Gabriel doesn't mind the mess human sex invariably involves. Sam curls slightly and reaches back to pull Gabriel's arm around him. "Gabriel," he says softly, before sleep claims him.

*

Gabriel wakes fully clothed, still sitting cross-legged with Sam's head in his lap. Some hours have passed given the lightening of the sky.

Sam opens his eyes and meets Gabriel's gaze. He looks better for the sleep, less like a walking coma, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles at Gabriel.

"Thanks," Sam says, and Gabriel wonders what, in particular, Sam is thanking him for. Sleep, amazing sex, or both? He's not sure he wants to find out.

Sam starts to get up and then grimaces. "Damn," he says, a hand on his hip. "That hurts." As Gabriel watches curiously, Sam stands up and unbuttons his jeans, pulling down one side.

A hand print -- Gabriel's hand print -- shimmers in the dark of the room.

"I think you chose a side," Sam says.


End file.
